


Near Fantastica

by vtn



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-19
Updated: 2010-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-10 04:45:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/95626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtn/pseuds/vtn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young boy and his TARDIS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Near Fantastica

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so technically this is an excerpt from something that was going to be much longer and is probably never going to be written. I am playing very fast and loose with canon here because I have my own idea (based on the new series) of what Gallifrey was like.

This is the part where he wants to spin and twirl and fling himself on the soft grass, so he does—feeling like he can taste the orange, orange sky. Maybe he can, a little, and it's sticky and tangy and dripping from his lips.

He might be in love. If that's the right word for it.

"What you _might_ be in is trouble," Jan says, holding back a snicker, when Kif tells him. "I can't actually comprehend the amount of trouble you might be in." He hops down from the wall he's sitting on to put his hands on Kif's shoulders. "Seriously, Kif. This is…big. I'm not sure if I was expecting—"

"I think big," Kif says, his mind nowhere near consequences. "It's what I do. Besides, it's not like there's anything anyone can really do about it now."

"What do you mean? They can put it back where you found it—"

"_Her_."

"You're _hopeless_, Kif." Jan sighs, his arms dropping to swing at his sides. "And a bloody idiot. Well, sometimes. But definitely hopeless. Anyway, they can put it back where you found it and they can smack you on the arse and send you to the library to do detention."

"No they can't. She chose me. I'm hers now." Trying not to grin, Kif shuffles on his feet. The only thing he really _can_ concentrate on is how he wants to run back to her and run his hands all over her and hear her voice in his head. "Jan, I feel kind of lewd." Jan snorts.

"Lewd? Attention, world, our young master of time and space is in fact hot for his stolen TARDIS. He is on his way to intensive therapy as we speak—Kif, where are you going? Kif, you bloody _idiot_!" Laughing, Kif runs and runs over hills, kicking off his shoes and socks so the grass can thread between his toes.

When he finds her she's still sleeping, like when he left her, her form something large and maroon and furry whose heartbeat he can feel under his hands. He whispers her name, twelve glorious syllables of a language he never knew he could speak before, and lays his cheek on her side.

And concentrates.

_Hello, my destroyer of worlds,_ she says to him, awakening.

 

-AMS

July 1, 2007


End file.
